


Wind & Anchor

by BearHatter



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Episode Related, Episode: s04e07 We're Done, Feels, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearHatter/pseuds/BearHatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Mike was looking at him, soft and sad and dressed in Harvey’s clothes, and Harvey couldn’t not say it: “I care about you,” he said, because he couldn’t come up with something also true but sneakier, he couldn’t hide this much longer. And because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, he said it with all the confidence and calm he’d ever pretended to have.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Reinterpretation of the scene at Harvey's apartment and thereafter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I loved this scene, and rewatching it multiple times + listening to melancholy music = fic for you! I'm working on part deux, and am a few paragraphs in already. Un-betaed, as always, and Word was on the fritz when I wrote it, so lemme know if there's something I should fix.
> 
> I adore feedback, and also you for reading this!
> 
> Oh, and title is from one of those songs I was listening to: Wind & Anchor by the National Parks.

“Forstman?”

“Logan.”

“Gillis?”

“Rachel.”

“Get the hell in here,” Harvey ordered, and stepped aside just enough to feel Mike sweep through and close the door behind him.

Mike was still a little manic, judging from the way he paced back and forth across Harvey’s living room.

“Mike, settle down a little,” Harvey ordered and handed him a washcloth, before moving to pour a couple of drinks. He was ready to ride this one out like every storm before it, even if it was nothing like any of them.

“I’m not going back there!” Mike asserted loudly, pointing wildly. He was clearly still feeling the adrenaline of the fight.

“I’m not saying you have to. I’m saying you have to calm down,” Harvey carefully annunciated, and handed him a glass.

“Would you calm down after someone stuck it in your face like that?” Mike downed it and put in on the counter in one move.

Harvey wasn’t particularly known for being calm, but… “I would if I knew he was just trying to get in my head.” He also wasn’t known for giving his opponents the satisfaction of getting under his skin.

“How the hell do you know that’s all it is?” Mike shot back.

“Because that piece of shit did it to you before, and I let him because I’m his lawyer, but I’m not gonna let him do it to you now.” Logan was all the things Harvey hated about himself, insecurity and selfishness and greed, plus a few things he could never be: infidelity made him sick, and hurting Mike… Harvey had done it, but never so gratuitously, and never without private, wait-till-you-get-home-to-think regret.

“Yeah, well he got in my head, he put the image in there and now I can’t get it out.”

“Mike—“ Harvey tried to interject, unsuccessfully.

 “I need to know if it’s true!”

“And what good is going to come of that?” Knowing the details only helped in court.

“I just need to know.” That was Mike, through and through.

“Then there’s only one way to find out; but you’re not going to find out tonight.” He filled and handed Mike another glass and pushed him gently back towards the living room. After filling the second glass again for himself, Harvey followed.

Mike sat down on the couch, took a sip of Scotch, and deflated before Harvey’s eyes, momentum stopped. This was what the anger had been covering up, this hurt and hopelessness. He’d seen some earlier, the stress and frustration of losing his job, but now he could see how much Mike had still had to lose. He’d staked his strength on his relationship with Rachel, and with Mike Ross level bad luck, he’d lost the gamble.

“Mike,” Harvey said, for no good reason, just checking for a pulse.

Mike just shrugged at first, limp and wrung out. After a moment, he spoke. “I’m tired, Harvey. I’m so tired.”

Harvey couldn’t speak at first, had to clear his throat, shake off the ache. “Sleep here, then,” he said, addressing the only part of Mike’s statement he could. “I have a really nice guest room.”

Mike shrugged again, slumped a little more. “Okay. I mean… thanks.” He looked around, more aimless than Harvey had ever seen him, and it wasn’t natural. “I didn’t bring anything.”

Harvey forced himself to roll his eyes, then he downed the rest of his glass and got up to get Mike something to sleep in. Mike followed him automatically into his bedroom, took the clothes Harvey handed him, took the towel Harvey pulled out of the linen cupboard, and went where he was shooed went Harvey sent him into the bathroom to shower.

With Mike safely behind that door, Harvey let himself have a long, shaky sigh. He did not, however, let himself think about Mike in his shower, warm and wet and pliant. He was Harvey Specter, he had some self-control, and nursing these feelings, already too persistent, with pointless fantasies, would only make it worse. So he didn’t let himself.

 

He didn’t.

 

(He did.)

 

 

By the time Mike got out of the shower, Harvey had succeeded in distracting himself by folding down the bedding in the guest room and putting away file boxes and other things he’d thrown in there for storage properly in the closet. When Mike appeared in the doorway, he felt ready for it, though he couldn’t keep his gaze from following a droplet of water from Mike’s hairline, just behind his ear, all the way down his neck.

“Best water pressure in the city, right?” Harvey boasted to cover it up.

Mike chuckled and nodded. “Nothing but the best for Harvey Specter.”

Harvey let his eyes crinkle in a smile but looked down. It was true in almost every aspect of his life. Almost. But having Mike and Scotty leave him all in the same day, that one day weeks ago, had rubbed in how much it wasn’t true in every aspect. Harvey just couldn’t hold on to people. On his worst days he wondered if he got it from his father.

But today was Mike’s personal worst day ever, so he didn’t say anything, just smiled and waited. Listening, he’d learned in many a professional circumstance, made people talk, and Harvey knew Mike needed to talk about this.

Sure enough, after a few moments, Mike shifted on his feet and uncrossed his arms. “I’m… I’m just starting to feel numb, you know? This thing with Sidwell happened, and it sucked _so bad_ ; and not just the job, but the way he looked at me… Coming after us, being at odds, which is something I _hate_ when it happens, but it was over, and everything was over, and at least I had Rachel, you know? I had some kind of connection to the world outside myself. Because Grammy…” his voice cracked.

“Grammy died, and Trevor’s gone, and I wasn’t sure if we’d ever be able to be back to where we were, but she still could pull me out. And then it turns out she’s betrayed me for… for _Logan_ of all people.” He let out a harsh laugh that really, really wasn’t a laugh and wrapped his arms back around himself. “So now I’m alone, with pretty much just myself to blame, and I have to wonder if this was my fault too.”

Harvey had drifted closer, hovering but hesitant to touch, but at this last confession he reached out to grip his arm, shaking his head slowly, emphatically. “No, Mike. It’s _really_ not.”

“Well. Who really cares, I guess.” Mike mumbled at last, and gave Harvey a brief half-smile.

Mike was looking at him, soft and sad and dressed in Harvey’s clothes, and Harvey couldn’t not say it: “I care about you,” he said, because he couldn’t come up with something also true but sneakier, he couldn’t hide this much longer. And because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, he said it with all the confidence and calm he’d ever pretended to have.

It still surprised him, though maybe it shouldn’t have, when Mike stepped closer, brought an arm around his waist, and kissed him.

It was hot and wet and desperate, teeth and tongue and _Mike._ It was at once exactly what he’d imagined for so long and not the way he’d ever wanted it. So at the same time as he memorized the taste of Mike’s mouth and stroked his hands over his shoulders, he took a small step back and then pulled away gently. Mike opened his eyes, and they were so, so blue, and all the explanation he could have given punched out of Harvey into one inelegant phrase: “I can’t be your rebound, Mike.”

He escaped Mike’s grasp before Mike could respond, cleared his throat as he gestured to the bed which was still up for his use, felt his hands shaking a little as he swept out of his apartment. He could call Ray, go to the bar that was constantly frequented by Harvard alums. Of course, they all thought he was an asshole. He could go see Donna, but she would do that thing where she read his mind and he really didn’t want to talk about... this. Besides, she probably had her hands full with Rachel right about now.

Once he got out of the building, felt the freshness of the air and smelled the exhaust and fried-food aroma of New York, he decided not to call anyone, just started walking. There was a diner two blocks away filled with crusty natives who wouldn’t be caught dead staring for any reason.

It felt good to walk, to jostle at the busiest intersection like a true New Yorker, to lengthen his stride when he felt like he wasn’t moving fast enough. He didn’t think he was even hungry enough to eat when he got there, but he could at least drink a terrible cup of coffee.

Fucking Rachel. She’d taken Mike from him and now she had Donna and she just couldn’t seem to stop screwing Harvey over without even talking to him. And none of that was really true, but it was true enough to make him feel like he was losing some kind of twisted competition to her. He’d been focused on winning other things, damn it, and they were important, and he’d been willing to let his feelings for Mike simmer until he could be sure he’d succeed. Don’t go to trial unless you know you’ll win. He should have remembered that the judge wouldn’t wait forever.

Well, Rachel had won, and then she’d treated Mike like she didn’t care, and here Harvey was, walking the streets of New York because he couldn’t have Mike if he couldn’t _have him_.

The diner was even grungier than he remembered, he noticed grimly when he arrived, but he went in anyway. He ordered a coffee, black. It was terrible, and the bar was filthy, and he crossed his arms on top of it and put his head down anyway. There was no one here who cared enough to notice. He’d order his next coffee with milk and sugar both. Maybe it would mask the taste of mediocrity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A non-climactic morning after, and a series of conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is pretty rough, still, and I may well go back and refine a bit later; but I just got back from a trip and I'm leaving on another tomorrow so I wanted to bang this out and get it up! I predict the third chapter will be more fun, this one was hard to write. I wanted to sync up all that dialogue and try out a fic that dances closer to canon than I'm used to, and it turns out it's harder than writing whole cloth! Like the last chapter, the divergence is mostly at the end.
> 
> So yeah, dialogue mostly directly from the show.
> 
> And thanks to my lone commenter, krystal214! You kept me from depression. Thanks to all the kudos-ers too. :)

 

            By the time Harvey got back home, the buzz of the terrible coffee had been all used up on the cold trek back. It’d been long enough to be able to hope Mike was asleep, but Harvey glanced in his door, which was still open, on his way to his own bedroom. Mike sat up, scaring the shit out of Harvey, but he just nodded at him, as if in acknowledgement, so Harvey nodded back stiffly and went to bed.

            Finally under the covers, he refused to analyze the strange mix of relief and disappointment roiling in his gut. He needed to get some sleep. He had work tomorrow.

 

 

In the morning, he got dressed as sharply as ever in half the time, and slipped past Mike’s door without incident. He’d beaten him awake, and only paused to write him a note.

_Mike: Feel free to eat whatever, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need. I’m off to work_

Harvey paused for a moment. Did he need to mention… anything else? Like, just maybe, something related to late night events? Harvey considered, then shook his head sharply and signed the note _–H_.

That wasn’t the sort of thing you wrote on a note, anyway. If Mike wanted it brought up again, he’d bring it up. He needed to get to work, the one solid constant, the place where he could still be on top of the heap.

 

 

 

But, of course, everything had started at work, and this mess wasn’t likely t leave him alone there.

“If it’s about Mike, I’m busy,” Harvey had seen Donna coming from a mile away, and he had made it a point to be busy.

Donna, of course, saw that as no obstacle. “Harvey, I know about your issues with infidelity but—“

“Donna, stop right there.” That was a bad tack to take with him, and Donna should know better.

“No! I’m not gonna stop because you need to talk to Mike about Rachel.” Donna said.

“Need.” Harvey said flatly.

“Yes! Need!”

Harvey looked up at her for the first time. He’d avoided it, worried she’d do her Donna-mind-reading-trick, but she clearly had other agendas in mind. “Listen to me, because I’m only gonna say this once. What she did, is between the two of them, and I’m not going to get in the middle of it one way or another. But if I did? It sure as shit wouldn’t be to defend her.” For multiple reasons, some more noble than others.

“Harvey, your lack of emotional awareness never ceases to amaze me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Yeah, that kind of blindness was going around, but Harvey felt like he’d noticed more than some people—including Donna, it would seem.

“I’m not asking you to do this for Rachel. I’m asking you to do this for Mike.” Classic Donna. Even if she didn’t know everything, she knew where to press. But Harvey was done giving under pressure. He wasn’t going to be strong-armed into supporting a relationship he’d never rooted for, even if he had no real chance with Mike himself.

And especially not in his own workplace. “Like I said. I’m busy.”

Donna left, thankfully, and Harvey returned to the papers he’d been reading. Sure, it was make-work, but if he’d missed something in the Eppelstein contract, simple though it may be, Jessica would kick his ass, name partner or not.

And he needed to be on her good side, because he had bigger fish to fry than Mike’s relationship problems.

(Like… Mike’s career problems. If his problems aren’t being fixed by Mike, they’re about him, these days.)

 

So the meetings with Jonathan and Jessica went… less than optimally. Harvey refused to believe, though, that someone as brilliant as Mike, and now with the kind of experience he had, couldn’t start over. It was the whole free market concept, or something. Mike was special.

The problems, of course, came when you considered that Mike wasn’t actually qualified to be a lawyer, and definitely wouldn’t get a reference as an investment banker from his previous employer. If he wanted to stay in New York (and that was an assumption Harvey would always choose to work under, this was his city and his… former associate) his options got a little trickier.

For the thousandth time, Harvey wished he had just asked Mike to stay. In trying to decide whether to hold on to him or Scottie, he’d lost them both, and now he was scrabbling with his fingertips to hold on to what he had left of a personal relationship. He exhaled carefully and rubbed at his eyes, before standing and shooting his cuffs. There was always more work to be done.

As if summoned, Donna stuck her head in. “Some associate dropped off a note, says you’re needed in the conference room?” Her sharp eyes rapidly assessed him, but she wisely didn’t comment or try to push Rachel’s agenda anymore, choosing instead to step primly back to her desk.

Harvey’s eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. He didn’t know what this could be about, but hopefully it would be substantial enough to be distracting but not so hefty as to actually take up time.

Jessica was there when he arrived, and it was gratifying to find they were still on the same page, but when Louis came in, Harvey knew this had to be good. Or at least entertaining.

“I hired Mike Ross back,” Louis finally cut to the chase, and Harvey felt a grin split his face. Who knew Louis could solve his problems twice in one week.

“I think it’s a great idea, Louis,” he cut in, before Jessica could say whatever quelling remark had welled up automatically. She gave him a well-disguised, horrified look, but he just let the charm into his automatic smile and smooth-talked his (and Jessica’s) way through the conversation until Louis left, satisfied.

He normally kept his cards pretty close to the chest, even if Jessica could read them anyway, but she was right in this instance that he wasn’t even trying to pretend. He wondered what she’d think if she realized even this was him controlling his delight. “I may be happy, but I’m also right, and we never should have let Mike Ross go in the first place,” he concluded, and that was pretty much that.

 

 

 

 

 

Getting up to his apartment that evening brought back all the hesitation and tension from that morning, and the night before. Only Mike could make something so apparently simple, desired, and make it into a messy knot of complication. Harvey didn’t like to play that way, he liked to cut through the tape, but this situation was too delicate to risk. He took a deep breath, and decided to play off of Mike. If he wanted to mention it, he would. And if he didn’t… nothing would change, and Harvey would move on. Eventually

“You look a lot better than the last time I saw you,” Harvey noticed straight away. And that was wearing sweatpants and eating cereal, not the most flattering of circumstances.

Mike grinned at him, and Harvey’s heart fluttered for a beat. “Well, didn't you hear? I got a new job.”

“Oh, I heard.” He did his best to sound foreboding, and it still wasn’t hard, which was gratifying. He was still Harvey Specter.

Sure enough, it made Mike pause and take notice. “What're you getting at there, Harvey?”

“What am I getting at?” Harvey shakes his head mournfully. “Louis hires you. You don't run it by me. You don't even tell me it's happening. All I am anymore to you is a clean set of sheets.” He let his voice get a little hoarse and verklempt by the end, feeling justified in some teasing.

Mike had no shame: “Speaking of which, you might want to up the thread count. And run it by you? You were practically begging me to come back yesterday.”

Harvey rolled his eyes pointedly but didn’t wipe the smile wholly off his face. “I didn't beg shit. I posited a theory. We both knew it was never gonna happen. I was just trying to make you feel better,” he shrugged innocently.

“I guess it took Louis to do what you couldn't do.” Mike sat back on the couch he had migrated to.

Harvey had to scoff at that. “Hire an unqualified fraud? I did that already.” There was a beat, and everything felt more right than it had in a long time. “Seriously, Mike, it's good to have things back to normal.” He was testing the waters, a little bit, sure.

There was a brief pause, and Harvey had no idea what it meant. “Yeah. Normal,” Mike said, and it wasn’t what Harvey really wanted, but it was so much better than what he’d had.

Screw Rachel for taking this away from them and calling it the right thing to do. Clearly, she wasn’t exactly a moral compass herself, and Harvey couldn’t defend a cheater to save his life.

But Harvey had a meeting to send Logan packing scheduled for tomorrow morning, Mike was coming back, and he’d gotten home early enough to order from his favorite Thai place. Once he’d changed into lounge wear, the food had arrived, and he and Mike were sitting at a carefully comfortable distance on the couch to eat and watch the Godfather, he could almost pretend that normal was all he needed.

            He could almost pretend that when he and Mike growled “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse” in time with Corleone, and Harvey grinned back at Mike and watched him laugh a moment too long, that this had all gone past normal for him a long time ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike finds out what Harvey's problem is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! I'm sorry this took so long, RL has been hectic. This chapter totally diverges from canon, ignoring the all the latest conflict and pretending everything goes realistically smoothly for a while. Which... yay, because _man_ do they get into a lot of trouble. Un-betaed, as always (I should really find one, one of these days) but hopefully there aren't too many errors to point out. I feel like it might be a little rushed, but... lemme know if it's smooth enough, or too jerky.
> 
> Feedback desperately loved!

            Mike and Harvey both were running on fumes, emotionally ragged, and in need of distraction. So after the Godfather, they’d kept going, neither willing to retreat to empty, quiet rooms. It was easier to keep watching movies, drink a couple glasses of scotch.

            Harvey should have known better, but as always, Mike snuck in under his better judgment. So, the next morning, he woke up on the couch underneath him.

            His first reaction… well, he was still asleep, so his first reaction was the kind of well-earned content he usually only felt after winning a case. His second reaction, much less familiar (though becoming more and more so) was blind panic. Mike was still asleep, which felt lucky somehow, but it was impossible to focus on extracting himself when Mike’s warm, lean body was pressing into his, and his bare feet were tangled with his.

            After a moment of indulgence tempered with guilt, Harvey moved out from under him and onto his feet in just a few, swift movements. Unlike the movies, he knew, that was way less likely to wake someone up than an eternity of small jerks.

            It was depressing, really, that he knew that, Harvey mused as he showered and dressed the same way, quickly, efficiently. But he wasn’t a drama queen. This wasn’t some maudlin Victorian novel. He needed to stop moping because Mike was crashing at his place, and get shit done.

            He felt better with his new/old mantra in place, and so when he walked back out into the living room felt no need to ponder before whacking Mike in the face with a thrown pillow. “Good morning, starshine,” he called out as dryly as possible on his way to the kitchen.

            Mike kind of convulsed to his feet. “The earth says hello,” he responded slurrily, still half-asleep but still on his feet and able to complete the reference. This was why Harvey l—

            Anyway. Back on the bandwagon and making sourdough toast, Harvey got down the butter dish and made coffee with quick, controlled movements before leaning back against the counter to wait for his toast to pop.

            It was strange, this kind of morning domesticity. Harvey’d expected more… drama, or tension, or something, given the heightened circumstances of the week and..  and alright, because of their kiss. But it seemed like Mike was just happy to go back to work, from the way he scarfed down breakfast and grinned at Harvey’s purposefully dire predictions. It was almost obscene, what he’d done to that orange with his long slender fingers and red mouth.

            So it was back to work, Harvey and Mike, against the world. Mike had his own office now, but he still came to Harvey’s often; their relationship and working dynamic was not at all tarnished for lack of use; even Jessica seemed pacified when they landed a million dollar settlement in the first week, with Mike’s strategy.

            So Harvey should have been glad everything was back to normal. Everything certainly seemed to be back to normal. Or even better.

            So why did it feel worse? Harvey couldn’t stop thinking about that late-night, ill-advised kiss, and how Mike had never said a word about it. Was he just following Harvey’s lead? Did he regret that it ever happened?

            Harvey had tried to keep his distance, but it was difficult when they worked together, they lived together, and Mike just kept acting like nothing was wrong. The only strategy Harvey could think of was to do the same, and keep a shiny, professional veneer on everything they did at work. At home was harder; at home he _knew_ he was acting oddly. He’d invite Mike to watch a movie, and then sit as far away from him on the couch as possible. Mike would cook dinner for both of them, and he’d go quiet thinking about what it could mean or if it was just teasing him.

            It was a state that couldn’t last, and while Harvey had been hoping his feelings would be the thing to give, that he’d just get over it and move on… it didn’t look like that’d be happening. So what else could give…? Harvey was starting to think it might be his sanity.

            Or maybe Mike’s patience, he added, as he caught a meaningful glare from Donna about his latest snap at Mike. He had not been an easy boss, lately. Though they had been very good lawyers. Jessica kept giving him looks that were half-pleased, half-perturbed. And Mike kept giving him looks that were half-hurt, half-defiant.

            Like right now, for instance, as he barged into Harvey’s office. He slapped a folder on the desk in front of Harvey and crossed his arms. “The Locksley brief, in under two hours, as you _demanded._ And now, in return for that _miracle_ of associative work, I’m not leaving this room without an explanation for the hell you have put me through for the past two weeks.” He sat pointedly, arms still crossed.

            “What,” Harvey said flatly, giving Mike his best _I can fire you_ look. “I really think you are.”

            Mike just shook his head. “You should know that glare doesn’t work on me anymore, Harvey. I think I’ve been pretty patient already, especially considering what’s happened in the past when you keep your problems from me.” He hesitated for a moment, his confidence flickering. “Is this… some kind of hint about rent or something? Because I can find my own place, I’ve just been a little busy—“

            “Mike,” Harvey interrupted, leaning forward, “No. That is not it at all, you can stay as long as you like. That’s not a work thing.”

            Mike looked at him, a little doubtfully. “Yeah? Then what’s this about?”

            Harvey sighed and pinched his nose. He should have known this would come back and bite him in the ass. “How about, you do leave this room without an explanation, and we talk about this at home?” he offered. A compromise, a settlement even, to buy him a little more time.

            Mike regarded him seriously. “All right, I’ll settle,” he said finally, with a tilted head and a crooked smile that Harvey couldn’t help but love. “But the court will reconvene later.” He got up and went, presumably to proof the contract Jessica had asked him to give a second opinion on.

            “That made zero sense,” Harvey called after him, “Stop mixing your law metaphors, it makes you look incompetent!” Mike ignored him, as per usual, so Harvey was satisfied with having the last word.  He was not looking forward, however, to that night.

            Putting it off as long as possible meant that, for once, he left work later than Mike. Usually he would make Mike stay with him, but it was hard enough finding busy work for himself without coming up for some for Mike that he would see straight through.

            So when he got he got home, Mike was already waiting for him. On the other hand, Harvey still wore his impeccable suit of armor, while Mike had changed into sweats and a t-shirt, his typical at-home outfit. He was just reading a book on the couch, no pretext of anything other than laying in wait.

            Mike looked up when he came in. “Hey.”

            “Hey,” Harvey nodded back. He put down his briefcase and kicked off his shoes into the hall closet and went into the kitchen to get a drink. He took a sip, and a breath, before emerging from behind the kitchen island and around into the front room. He sat across from Mike and crossed his legs. “Let the inquisition begin,” he said and gestured his glass towards Mike ironically.

Mike’s book was already bookmarked and away, his hands clasped between his legs as he leaned forward and sighed at him. “It won’t be much of one, if it is,” Mike said. “I only have one question: What’s wrong, Harvey?” He asked, simply, gently, intently.

            It was ridiculous for Harvey’s throat to thicken at that tone. He was silent for a long moment. He’d expected a grilling, an accounting for all the things he knew Mike had been chafing at. He’d been prepared for that. But this gentle concern… it was so Mike, but it still caught him off guard. What could he say, except the truth?

            “I’m just…” Harvey paused again. “It’s my fault, Mike, I’ve just been trying to be professional and over-compensating.”

            Mike shook his head, mouth crooking a little at the obvious deflection. “What’s _wrong_ , Harvey?”

            “I haven’t told you because I  didn’t want to risk our friendship, or our working relationship,” Harvey prefaced. “I don’t… I’m telling you so you know I do trust you, not because I expect things to change, alright?” He was wincing internally at the drama of it all, but some part of him was glad for it too, wanted some petty revenge on Mike for all this hellish experience. Harvey couldn’t go more than an hour or two without thinking of The Kiss, trademarked. Mike could stand a little grumpiness and suspense.

            But there was no reason to drag it out too long. After Mike’s acknowledging nod, Harvey just went out and said it, as matter-of-factly as possible: “The thing is, Mike, I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, and they’ve been persistent.”

            Not willing to see Mike’s reaction, Harvey went to put his scotch glass back in the kitchen. He was _not_ getting drunk tonight. It would only make him maudlin.

            When he got back Mike’s eyes were wide and a little incredulous, his whole body in the attitude of shock. “You… you… but you shut me down! I’ve always… I thought you knew and just weren’t interested, and then there was Rachel, and then there wasn’t, but you still shut me down! You practically _fled the building_ when I made a move.”

            Harvey shook his head. “I didn’t want to be your rebound, which is what I said! You never told me anything, for all I knew you just wanted a one-night comfort thing, and that would screw us up too much to ever be worth it.”

Mike sat back and looked at him, still amazed, and also, Harvey saw with a pang of worry that he ruthlessly quashed, some dismay. “Harvey, I’ve wanted you _forever_. And I’m not stupid enough to try for a one night stand with someone I want to stay best friends with in the morning.” He sat back, looking somehow nervous and scornful at the same time. Only Mike could pull that off.

            And then Harvey’s ears checked in with his higher functioning. “ _What?_ ” he said. And again, just to be sure, “ _What?_ ” It was his turn to be shocked, amazed, and it was almost more a relief than a joy. Promising an end to the purgatory it had been, living with Mike and not _living_ with him.

            Mike grinned at him. “I can’t believe you didn’t already know. I’m not exactly Sergeant Subtle. I’m pretty sure everyone at the office knows and feels bad for my miniscule chances.” He stood up and took the few necessary steps towards Harvey’s armchair, leaning on the armrests and bending down to murmur into Harvey’s ear. “For the record, this is not for a rebound.” Then he leaned back just enough to seal his mouth to Harvey’s.

            It was just as hot and wet and mobile as the first time, but with less desperation and more… happiness. Soon, Harvey found himself with a lapful of lithe limbs and a firm ass, which he quickly took advantage of.

            When they pulled apart for a breather, Harvey couldn’t help but ask: “Sergeant Subtle?” His grin probably gave away his skeptical tone.

            Mike grinned back, forehead leaning against his. “It’s alliterative. Shut up, you love me.” And Harvey didn’t argue, just kissed him again and snuck a hand up the back of his shirt, exploring the smooth arching lines of his back.

            When that hand slid around to thumb at Mike’s nipple, it got a gratifying gasp, before Mike stood and tugged him after him to the bedroom. “I have been waiting to get you out of that suit for _far_ too long,” he asserted, glancing back to rake a hot gaze over Harvey.

            “Well I guess you’d better take it off, then,” Harvey smirked, and closed the bedroom door behind them just to press Mike against it and devour his hot, red mouth.

            They didn’t make it to the door the first time.

            They did for the second and third.


End file.
